Saturday, August 18, 2018

Nutrition wars. Scorched Oven policy. RIGINAL.

by riginal (writer), moe australia, April 19, 2014

You won't find this cooking war among your 'best sellers'. It's off the beaten tract. Just a groan past greedy. Convulsive reading for nutritionists but it will groan on you.


Are me...A cold blustery wind shrouded the war zone. Or was it a bold clustery wind emitted from the groaning soldiers begging for mercy.

The year of the stale pizza. Black Olive was,and proud of it, a simple pizza cook seconded to the Battle of the Blimps.

Black Olive was an undercover pizza cook trained to defect to the 'other side' of cooking to infiltrate the enemy's palate.

You will find no mention of B.O. in the annals of historical war cook book skirmish. Indeed, Black Olive's B.O. was hidden/disguised under his armpits, saturated in sweat so that the opposing army smelt B.O.'S B.O. way before they saw him. A pasty little Italian with a heart of pizza.

B.O., sweating profusely, crawled under enemy lines with his 30,000lb genuine made-in-Italy, (assembled in Berlin) pizza oven weighing heavily on his mind...and his back! Barb wire scratches attested to that.

The warring countries no longer hurled ammunition/hi-tech weapons at each other. This particular war was between 10,000 deadly nutritionists from downtown "God! Don't eat that! It's bad for you and your constitution! You'll get a guts ache!... WAR on fatty foods!" They fixed their celery bayonets. "Incoming B.O." the cry went up from calorie counter guard Himmel Smoothie.

They hated the dreaded fat.Their sworn enemy. The French Foreign Dressing Italian Freedom Fighter pizza fighters.Hated their huge fat guts. Hated their motto. "Oh what the matter you? Pizza just ain't poo... eat up n' shuta the face! We all gotta die of some dumb ding a ling let your guts swing."

The FFDIFFFF (in short- fat f's one D I) numbered 1...or did they? Himmel Smoothie caught the incoming B.0. stuck a chilli up his assailed nostrils. Threw a .45 juiced carrot in the breech of his anti-fat low calibre high potency mixer. "Halt! who grows hair!" The wily B.0. stood up, awkwardly! Tucked the 30,000 lb pizza oven in his back pocket. "I don' grows hair i'm hair to looking for a jobs as a 'reformed' born again nutritionist and cooking for kind sir."

"What's tucked in your back pocket weighing approximately 30,000 lb and looks like a pizza oven if you are a genuine born a gen eater of nutritious above board skinny eating?" "I wills leave my ovens behind my behind behind me kind sir can I talk turkey with your General as we want no F war."

"Leave your behind's oven behind, I'll get the oven cleaners to bring it in and check its gout. Meantime put your B.O. up in the air and follow me." The evil B.0.s plan was working. He had a fat chance.

General Lowfattalkturkey hit B.O. with his night-stick as a precursor. B.0. cursed on cue. Winced...said, "ow or pre" prior to curse. Or something similar.

"SOOO! You have seen the light you pizza eating wielding despot? Bring in the oven!" Himmel spoke smoothly, sucking on a nutritious smoothie. But sir the oven cleaners haven't..."

"BRING the bloody oven in. I'm starting to get B.O. We all will if this turkey writing this doesn't get on with it!"

The oven was wheeled in. "Now! nine Fat fffffffff'sss" yelled B.O triumphantly."Nine fat Italian cooks within the oven opened fire from the cunningly designed 10,000 concealed pizza flaps with 'extra black olives' was devastation. 10,000 fatty pizzas were caught off guard (including guard Himmel) by ten thousand hungry skinny nutritionists, and devoured before you could say...Helen- of- Troy. The idea from whence borrowed after Pasta headquarters approved the war menu/me n u...?

B.O. stood laughing...gloating at the groaning convulsed deflated defeated nutrition deviates. Their digestive systems overwrought, captivated by 10 brave fatties. The victory of the 'Battle of the Blimps' may not appear in any pizza war museum cook book. But don't you agree folks that after the lush black olive pizzas are eaten B.0. comes to the fore? Or is that the dog? Please don't feed your dog pizza. Unless his name's B.0. Diddly. Fat chance?

Pizzas 'aint that bad in moderation anyway...wherever moderation begins and ends. I just suck on celery myself. Bet your salary sucks too. You'd think your stingy boss would shout you a pizza wouldn't you? 'Undercover Boss' would.

About the Writer

Bio...bioio...daylight come an i wanna go home. Come missa tele man tele me banana. A banana tele? Seriously would like to hook up with other comedy writers to engage.
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